


Whatever he needs

by Morgane (smilla840)



Series: Need/Want [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Episode Tag, M/M, Season 2, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:33:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilla840/pseuds/Morgane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After 'Heart', Dean will do anything to make Sam okay again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever he needs

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: the consent in this one is very iffy. I didn't tag it as rape because it's more dub- than non-con IMO, especially in light of the sequel. However do be careful if that might be triggery for you, and if you think it deserves a non-con tag, please let me know.

The gunshot is still ringing in his ears when Sam comes back into the kitchen, face dangerously blank and the gun held loosely in his hand. Tears are falling down his face, and Sam wipes them off absentmindedly, not noticing that they just keep coming.

Dean moves, taking the gun away from him and tucking it back into his jeans. Sam just stands there, looking at him, and Dean berates himself for not doing the job himself. It will haunt him as much as it will Sam, this failure to keep his brother safe, but now isn’t the time for self-recrimination.

“Come on,” he says when it becomes clear Sam isn’t going to move on his own, because someone is bound to have heard that shot and the cops will be there soon. His hand on Sam’s back steers him out of the apartment and back into the car, and Sam lets himself be ushered without protest.

It’s only when they’re driving back towards the motel that Dean allows himself to breathe, checking in the rear-view mirror. They’re in the clear. He glances at Sam, silent next to him, and just wishes they were back at the motel already.

Thankfully it isn’t that far and while Dean knows they’re going to have to leave town pretty soon, he can take the time to… do whatever it takes to make Sammy better.

Finally, _finally_ they’re there and Dean parks hastily, sending a quick apology to his baby as the tires whine on the pavement. Sam gets out on his own, and Dean figures that’s good, right? Except Sam still isn’t talking and Dean has no idea what to do.

Inside the relative privacy of their room, Dean gets their weapons out of the way, quickly wiping Sam’s prints off the gun that killed the girl and making sure his own are on it. If they get caught… well he’ll be damned if he lets them accuse his brother.

Sam’s ignored him ‘til then but when Dean stands up he turns towards him, hollow eyes and teary face, and something inside Dean’s chest hurts.

“Dean,” Sam says, and it’s the first thing he’s said since the apartment. The plea rings loud and clear and Dean doesn’t think twice, taking the two steps that separate him from his brother and pulling him into a hug.

It’s awkward, because Sam is so damn tall, and they haven’t hugged in God knows how long. It used to be so easy, so simple back when they were both kids but then Sam had grown up, had grown angry at their father and – ultimately – at Dean, and hugs just didn’t cut it anymore.

It doesn’t seem to matter now though because Sam is clinging to him desperately, as if Dean was the only thing keeping him standing, and that’s probably true too. And Dean… well Dean just holds him and doesn’t say anything when tears soak his shirt.

Then lips ghost over his skin and Dean tries his best not to jump out of his skin. What the hell…

“Dean,” Sam whispers. It’s as much a plea as it was before and so Dean doesn’t protest when Sam pushes him back towards the bed. It’s pretty clear what his brother has in mind, and Dean knows all about that psychological bullshit of life and death and sex – experienced it more than a few times himself. He just isn’t sure this – adding sex with his _brother_ to the already fucked-up situation – is going to do Sam much good. He should pull away and get some girl to help his brother out, but he knows, he _knows_ Sam won’t accept that. He’ll clam up and pretend everything is fine, and Dean won’t be able to fix him.

And so when Sam’s large body pushes him into the bed, small noises falling from his lips as he mouths Dean’s throat, Dean doesn’t push him away. 

If Sam thinks he needs this, Dean will let him have it and worry about the consequences later.

Sam is whimpering now and rubbing his hard-on against Dean’s hip urgently. Dean tries to soothe him, tries to tell him ‘it’s okay, I’m here and I’m not going anywhere’ but Sam isn’t really hearing him, lost in a haze where pain and lust and love for Dean and for Madison are all tangled together and eating at his guts, and only his brother can make it better because that’s what he always does. 

Dean closes his eyes and just goes with the flow. It’s fucked up and he isn’t hard but he thinks maybe he could be, if the situation was different and Sam wasn’t still crying and it’s so wrongwrongwrong that Dean shoots that line of thought down before he can fully process it. Then Sam’s hand takes his own and places it on his groin, his intent clear, and Dean freezes.

“Dean,” Sam begs and Dean can’t say no.

The sound of the zipper is loud in the room, drowning out even Sam’s harsh breathing, and when Dean takes his brother in his hand Sam groans and buries his face in the crook of his shoulder.

Now, Dean doesn’t make it a habit to jerk guys off – well, there was that one time after Sam left for college and Dad was off some place on his own, but that doesn’t really count because he was feeling lonely and that’s not the point here anyway – but it’s not that different from jerking himself off, and from the way Sam pushes into his hand he figures he must be doing it right.

It doesn’t take long. Sam comes with a sob muffled by Dean’s skin and Dean wipes his hand clean on the sheet, thinking distractedly that there will be dry come on their clothes tomorrow. Sam is shaking against him, tears still leaking from his eyes, and Dean hates the way it’s making him feel inside.

“Sleep,” he says, and Sam obediently closes his eyes, curling up against him. Dean allows it, pushing Sammy’s sweaty hair out of his face and dropping a quick kiss on the top of his head.

“Dean…” Sam sighs and soon his breathing evens out, the exhaustion of the last few days pulling him under.

And Dean lies awake, mulling over his failures. He shouldn’t have let Sam get so attached to the girl, shouldn’t have let Sam walk back into that room, should have pulled the trigger himself, should have… 

What he does _not_ think about – much – is the fact that he just had his hand on his brother’s dick. It’s not relevant. Because whatever Sammy needs, Sammy gets. It’s always been that way, even when what Sam needed was ‘normal’ and ‘college’ and Dean gave him money for the bus. If it’s comfort he now needs, or whatever this is, Dean will give it to him.

He just hopes Sam won’t freak out in the morning. And if what he needs then is to forget everything that happened tonight, Dean will give him that too.

There is only one thing he won’t do for Sam. He won’t kill him, no matter what. But as far as everything else goes? It’s all fair game if it keeps Sam safe and sane.

Dean looks at his slumbering brother and rubs the sleepiness out of his own eyes. He knows the nightmares will come, sooner or later, and he keeps watch.

Anything for Sammy.


End file.
